Second Chances
by Nationless
Summary: Gilbert has always been able to see Angels of Death. He was taught from a young age to hide this gift. But when he has a run in with a Reaper who bears a striking resemblance to a man he used to admire, Gilbert can't help but to reach out to the dead musician.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Hello and thank you for reading ^^; This is a continuation of my Reaper-verse. I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

Late night was one of the few things that brought Gil comfort. There was no one to cast judgmental glares, or make snide comments about the way he spoke, or the way he looked. It was a time of peace.

Gilbert crawled out of his bedroom window, relishing the way the frost-coated grass crunched beneath his feet. It may be three in the morning, but Gil deigned it the perfect time to go out for a wander.

As he walked away from the more suburban area of the small town, he queued up one of the few softer pieces on his mp3 players: a requiem and the only piece ever composed by Roderich Edelstein.

When Gilbert was younger, and before he had moved away from Germany, he had idolized the musician. Hell, in a sense he still did. Even six years since the man's death, Gilbert still had a poster of him, as well as copies of the music he had once played. His grandpa Fritz used to tease him about how Gil must have had a ridiculous crush on the pianist from Vienna.

He pondered these things as he passed by the shops, closed now at this hour. It was odd how this one piece could bring up such a recollection. Gilbert used to associate his grandfather with music that was much livelier, more passionate.

This one was mournful, aching. Not like his grandpa.

For almost two hours, Gilbert walked the quiet streets. The only company he had was the occasional car driving past, or a gang of teenage hooligans that people often mistook Gil for.

He had nearly returned to his home at quarter to five, when the peaceful night around him shattered. The plaintive sound of piano was overtaken by the screeching of metal, and shrieking of brakes.

He looked up just in time to see a black Chevy crashing into the car parked in front of his neighbor's house.

Automatically, Gilbert flinched, covering his ears from the horrendous sound. It only lasted a moment before an eerie silence once again fell over the night. "Mein Gott," he breathed, taking a hesitant step closer to the wreck. He pulled the headphones from his ears as he approached.

He could hear faint moaning from the Chevy, and his heart stopped. Someone was alive in there.

"Hello?" he called. "Are you ok in there?" He brushed his silver hair from his eyes, vainly hoping that it would improve his vision.

'Of course not, idiot,' he mentally scolded himself. 'Did you hear that crash? It's a miracle they aren't dead.'

He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, but a sudden movement caught his eye.

Dumbstruck, Gilbert watched as a man walk up to the car. It was difficult to make out his features in the darkness, but Gil could see he was lanky with dark hair and glasses. In his hand, the man held a thin blade.

Gil's breath caught in his throat. A Reaper.

He released his phone, and took several quick steps back. Grandpa Fritz had always told him to stay far away from the Angels of Death. But at the same time, something about this one had him almost captivated. There was a familiarity about this Reaper's posture as he stood in front of the driver's door.

In a single quick movement, the man pierced through the window and silenced the driver forever.

Gil had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming at him. Still, a strangled sound came from his throat at the pure barbarism of the act.

That seemed to garner the Reaper's attention. His gaze snapped across the street to meet the teens.

That's when Gilbert realized why he thought the man looked familiar. It was the face he saw every day on his wall.

The sharply angled face with large, vulnerable eyes belonged to the deceased pianist from Austria. Roderich Edelstein.

Gilbert was sure he was a dead man. Slowly, he backed even further away, thinking that he would make a run for it.

But then, the Reaper turned, and walked away without a word. He didn't seem to even acknowledge Gil's presence as he slumped to the sidewalk.

~X~

For the rest of the day, Gil was tormented by his own mind. All his life, he had assumed the Grim Reapers were simply soulless creatures that wandered the Earth, collecting souls. But what if that wasn't the case? If that was truly Edelstein, that opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

There was a chance at living after you die.

If that was true, then was death really something to be afraid of? It could be that dying just opened up a different part of life. You wouldn't simply not exist after dying. You could still think, still walk around. You could still be alive.

It was this line of thinking that was going through his head as he entered the school cafeteria.

"Franny, Tonio," he said as he took his usual seat across from them.

Francis nodded in that almost disinterested way of his, as Antonio cheerfully greeted the albino.

He grinned widely, unable to hide his new revelation. "Guys, I'm no longer afraid to die."

Everything seemed to stop in that instant as two sets of eyes snapped to his.

"Pardon?" Francis asked calmly. "I'm sure I must have misheard you, Gilbert. Or is it that you're actually as idiotic as you look?"

Gil shrugged, still smiling. He couldn't tell them his real thoughts, but maybe he could share part of it. "No, I… I just realized that there's no way to stop dying. So why should I bother being afraid of it?" he lied easily.

He almost missed the way Antonio's gaze darkened.

"Because it's kinda useless, ja? We have enough to be worrying about. So why should we bother with the inevitable?" The made up reason sounded almost plausible, he realized. It was odd, considering how Gil was usually a terrible liar.

Next thing he knew, Gil's head was snapped to the side as Antonio's fist made impact on his cheek.

"Don't you dare talk about dying as if it's easy, Gilbert," he hissed. "Don't you fucking dare talk about something you know _nothing_ about."

Gilbert stared at him, wide-eyed. That was the last reaction he had expected from the Spaniard. "Toni…"

"Shut up, Gilbert." Quickly, Antonio stood up, and walked away from the table. "Just shut up for once in your life."

Francis sighed once Antonio was out of earshot. "You can be rather stupid; you realize that, right?"

"I'm just telling the truth," Gil contested. He pressed a hand against his sore cheek. There would probably be a bruise later.

"To someone who lost their best friend not even a year ago," Francis finished. "I'm not going to argue your theory, idiotic as it may be, but I will say that you should carefully consider who you confide your theories to."

That brought Gil a moment's pause. He had forgotten that Antonio's friend Lovino had been killed that recently. "I'm still right," he muttered.

Francis shrugged. "We're seventeen," he reminded Gil. "We're always 'right'."

Gilbert glared at him, but kept his mouth shut. He had been stupid to think that they would accept his view.

~X~

It had been almost nine years since Gil saw the Reaper Edelstein. After all that time, it was hard to hold on to his conviction that the dead came back as Angels of Death.

He still saw them, though. Every few months, Gilbert would see a person walking down the street with a weapon that no one else could see. Now, though, he kept to his grandpa's teachings: never look at them, never speak to them, and never approach them.

Most of the time, he just pretended that he couldn't see them. He went about his daily life as if the didn't even exist. Or, he tried to.

"Excuse me, sir," he heard someone say.

Gilbert looked over, and found himself face to face with a woman. Her long, brown hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing a face centered on emerald eyes.

Automatically, his eyes flashed down to her hands, and saw her clutching a short, heavy looking sword.

His defenses instantly went up. "What?" he asked flatly.

She smiled, ignoring his obvious hostility. "I need to find AD 219. Could you direct me there?"

Gil's crimson gaze hardened slightly. That was Professor Tyler's room. He was one of the oldest faculty members on campus, and one of Gil's favorites. "Follow this path until you see the administration building. It's the second floor, on the left. Can't be too hard to find."

She quickly glanced over his shoulder, before thanking him.

As she walked away, Gilbert openly glared at her. That Reaper had some nerve, asking the living for assistance.

Still, he was reminded of his principles. Those who are set to die will die. It didn't really matter if Gilbert liked the professor. It wouldn't help if Gil misdirected the Reaper. You couldn't cheat death.

He adjusted his bag, and left the campus. He had an artist to visit.

~X~

"Gilbert, cher, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" Francis greeted as his customer left.

Gil looked around the dingy alley. It almost seemed sad to him that Francis chose the life of a street artist. "You believe in ghosts, right?" he asked. The albino needed a reminder that he wasn't the only one who believed in life after death.

Francis chuckled. "I believe in a lot of things," he said. "Why do you ask?"

Gilbert almost smiled. Francis had seriously mellowed out as he aged. He had also grown up to be one of those ridiculously evasive types. "You told me you saw them, once. Back in high school." It was one of those things that Francis said when he 'wasn't' drunk on wine. One of those things Gilbert had to promise to never tell Antonio.

Francis held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I see Earth-bound spirits. There's a difference. I'm surprised you even remember that, much less believe me. Aren't you one of those 'proof in science' types?"

Gil shrugged. "Whatever. How can you tell if they are, though?"

The Frenchman eyed him oddly as he packed up his pencils. "There's no shadow," he said simply. "Other than that, they look normal, if ridiculously pale."

"They don't have a shadow?" he repeated. Gilbert had never really looked down to see if the Reapers had shadows. He only looked far enough to see if they had a weapon.

Francis hummed. "Never. I met one a few days ago," he confided. "An Englishman. Very angry, very confused."

That made Gil laugh. "You're one to talk about being confused," he teased. "How many majors did you go through before finally dropping out of college?"

"Seven," he sniffed. "No need to bring up things from the past like that. It's been over half a decade. Speaking of the past, why do you bring up spirits now, of all times?"

Gil adjusted the strap of his bag. "I, uh, saw something I couldn't quite explain," he lied. "Look, I have to go. We'll talk later?"

"You know we will," Francis confirmed. "As you know that I don't believe that answer."

He tossed a grin over his shoulder as he walked away. "You never do."

"Hey, Gilbert?" Francis called before Gil could completely get away.

He paused, turning around to look at the blond.

"Don't think this means I agree with your theory on death. I still think anything like becoming a spirit is a long shot at best, and that it's a terrible idea to try."

The albino shrugged. "I wasn't planning anything," he admitted. "Just because I'm not afraid of death doesn't mean that I want to die. I'm perfectly happy to live."

Francis sighed. "All the same…"

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he walked away. Perceptive as Francis could be, he didn't always get the pieces together in the right way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Thank you to everyone who favorited and started following Cheating Death. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

_"Let's make a deal, shall we? I'm sure you won't regret it…."  
_

_The Austrian bit his lip nervously. This was all too much, too soon. Within a matter of minutes, he had been told that he was dead, and that Death was offering him some sort of nameless reward. "What exactly does this deal entail?" he asked softly.  
_

_He could almost feel the darkness smirking at him. "You have your options, of course. Currently, I'm in need of an Assassin, and an Assigner."  
_

_Roderich's brow furrowed, not understanding what either of those meant.  
_

_"As an Assassin, you would be collecting souls for me. Your debt would equate one hundred and twenty five souls, or approximately twelve and a half years."  
_

_That was odd. "Collecting… Souls?" Roderich repeated.  
_

_"Well, to put it crudely, you would essentially kill them," Death explained. "You would be assigned a weapon, and use it to collect their souls."  
_

_The pianist felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't kill another person. Roderich could barely stand to crush a spider, much less kill a human being. "And an Assigner?" he inquired. It didn't sound as violent, so Roderich thought it could be the more promising offer.  
_

_"You would be pairing Assassins with those on the Kill List. Your debt would equal twenty years of service."  
_

_That caused Roderich to flinch. Twenty years… He had barely even lived twenty years. "What do I get from this deal?" he asked. Already, he was leaning towards not even accepting. He was no murderer, and twenty years of service just seemed too long. There was nothing that could be worth that.  
_

_Roderich could feel Death's grin. "Humanity," he said, velvet voice caressing the word. "If you pay off your debt, you will become human again. You will be able to live your life just like anyone else."  
_

_Roderich's breath caught in his throat. He could come back. There was a chance at this not being the end. Suddenly, the twenty years seemed even longer, and the killing almost looked like it might be the better alternative.  
_

_"I accept," he whispered. "I accept your deal."  
_

_Death chuckled. "And which position would you like to take, Roderich Edelstein?" he asked.  
_

_He clenched his fists. This was it. Lose twenty years, or take over one hundred lives for a shorter sentence. "Assassin," he replied. His voice was still soft as ash, and it was a struggle to put together a coherent thought. But it was still something he had to do.  
_

_"Let me explain certain ramifications before you make it official," Death cautioned. "You will basically have to live in the shadows for the duration of your deal. No contact with the living unless it's absolutely necessary, which will mean that you will essentially live on the streets. Fortunately, you will be unable to feel the cold for the majority of your deal, so winters will not be a problem.  
_

_"No human is to ever know about this sort of deal. If you think one suspects, you must immediately come to me."  
_

_Roderich nodded slowly, not even able to absorb this information. It all seemed like a scarily lucid dream. Everything was too ridiculous.  
_

_"And one last thing…" Death paused. "If you are unable to complete a soul collection, for any reason, your own soul is forfeit. You will essentially be damned."  
_

_He felt a sudden chill run through him.  
_

_Death continued. "If you suspect you will be unable to complete a kill, forty eight hours notice must be given to the secretary. He will approve or deny reassignment. If they deny it… You must complete it, no matter what."  
_

_Suddenly, a snow-white pedestal materialized in front of Roderich. A black book lay open on top of it.  
_

_"If you accept, sign your name," Death said. "If you decline… Now is your last chance to say anything."  
_

_Nervously, Roderich adjusted his glasses. It was ethics versus the chance of being able to live again. After what seemed like an eternity of thought, Roderich picked up the pen.  
_

~X~

"Your next three assignments, Edelstein," Vash said as he nearly slammed the manila folders on his desk.

Roderich scoffed. The Swiss man was as rude as ever. Without a word, he picked up the files and began to flip through them. A girl was going to die in a car crash, and two boys were to jump off a bridge to their deaths.

He scowled faintly. That certainly wouldn't go over well. "I demand a reassignment."

Vash snorted. "Tough luck. I'm all out of patience for your reassignments."

The Austrian leveled a glare at the other, violet eyes hardened by fifteen years spent as an Assassin. "No. Reassign them," he ordered.

Vash quirked a brow, and stood up behind his desk. "Do you really think you're in any sort of position to place demands on me?" he asked lowly. "Don't forget, Edelstein, I'm the one who makes sure you get these. If you keep testing my patience, I may misplace them."

That was only partially true, as Roderich knew. There was someone who ranked above the secretary. If Vash were to refuse to give Roderich his assignments, he would simply go over his head.

Death would likely damn the blond for his actions.

A small smirk curved his lips. He turned on his heel, all three folders in hand. A soft click followed as he walked down the marble-tiled hall.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Vash snapped.

Roderich didn't answer, choosing to continue his path at a determined, measured pace. Within minutes, he was at Death's door.

The level of normalcy attached to it continually amused Roderich. The fabled 'doorway to Death' was no more than a simple wooden door. Nothing distinguished, or notable.

Without knocking, he walked through and was instantly enveloped by darkness.

It was almost comforting to him. The blackness was almost like a protective blanket against the blinding light of his daily life.

"And what are you doing here?" Death asked, irritation barely concealed with a shroud of geniality.

A mask of polite indifference settled over his face. If he wanted this to work, Roderich would have to play this just right. "Sir, I've been assigned two suicides that I am unable to complete. I came to request that you reassign them, as Vash Zwingli refuses to do so."

He could almost hear Death sigh in frustration. "Roderich Edelstein, this is why you are still working off your debt after all this time. You ask for everything to be reassigned. You will complete your orders as they were given to you."

A slight scowl marred his disguise. "Sir, I am unable," he repeated. "Please give them to someone else."

"No."

This wasn't even remotely going according to plan. His mind worked quickly to find another angle. "An exchange, then," he proposed. "I will do two different assignments, instead of the double suicide. I will work within the same time frame, as well."

There was a pause in the darkness as he considered the young man's offer. Roderich dared hope that this may work.

"You will do the suicides," Death said. "But I will take Marissa Harrison's death away from you. This is a warning. I don't want you here on a petty reassignment issue."

Roderich released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Shock crossed his expression openly. "My apologies," he murmured as he turned back towards the door.

As he passed Vash's desk, he slid the car accident back to him before wordlessly leaving the building.

Only when the glass door was shut did he allow a triumphant smirk to turn his lips. Really, it was too easy.

Death was a busy man; he would never grant Roderich's request when the man had came in the way he did. But, if he were to ask for the opposite of what he wanted… It was almost guaranteed that Roderich would get exactly what he had wanted.

~X~

Once again, Roderich found himself standing outside of a concert hall. Sometimes, he imagined that he could hear the music flowing through the building. He would pretend that he could hear the crescendos, the pounding of the timpani, and the graceful dance of the flute.

Of course, it was all speculation. He was always careful to keep his distance, and kept to the shadows the night provided.

The brunette was always more comfortable in the darkness. He felt he belonged there, like another shadow.

An added bonus was that he could watch the people as they left. It was interesting to see the high society women with their designer gowns walking next to the college students with worn out slacks.

One in particular caught his eye tonight. This one hadn't even made an effort to dress up, Roderich noted with disdain. His jeans were starting to get holes in the knees, and his defense against the early-April chill was a black hoodie. Completely unsuitable for an orchestra concert.

From the safety of the shadows, he glared at the man. How people could be so disrespectful was beyond him.

To his dismay, Roderich noticed the man getting closer until he could make out his features in the darkness. He drew back instantly, not wanting to lose his view of the crowds, but equally unwilling to allow the two of them to get much closer.

His hair was shockingly fair, almost silver in the moonlight, as was his skin. The way he walked was strange as well. If Roderich were to try and describe it, he would say it was deliberately purposeless. A wide stride, but meanderingly slow.

In a flash, their eyes met, and Roderich was transported back almost a decade ago, when he was much newer to his job.

He had seen those red eyes before. It had only been for a moment, but that color was hard to forget. He had killed a young woman who crashed her car early in the morning, and when he turned around, a teenage boy was watching with wide, awestruck eyes.

Suddenly, the man's step quickened and he was soon not even a foot away.

The brunette glanced around, looking for a quick escape. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he saw that there was nowhere really to run.

The strange albino grasped his wrist almost roughly, and tugged him slightly closer. "Come with me," he insisted softly with a voice akin to gravel.

The instinct to pull away was weaker than Roderich's actual attempt. Instead, he leveled a glare at the man. "And why should I?" he asked, making sure to speak aloofly.

A half-smile, half-grimace twisted his lips. "Because I don't think you want the world to know you're a Grim Reaper," he replied.

Roderich's blood ran cold. There was no way he could even remotely know that. "Excuse me?" he asked, keeping the off-handed manner. The more distant Roderich could appear, the more better. Only fools showcased their emotions.

The stranger—German, if Roderich were to place his accent—rolled his eyes impatiently. "You aren't stupid. Or deaf. You have no shadow, and there's a sword at your waist. Mind explaining that?"

He fought to keep himself from gaping. "It's night. Of course I have no shadow," he improvised. "As for the sword… I would suggest you stop taking whatever you're taking. You're seeing things."

Mentally, Roderich reminded himself to keep his breathing steady. Even if this man could see it… He couldn't drop his façade quite yet.

His grip on the Austrian's wrist tightened. "Stop beating around the bush," he retorted. "Just come with me, and answer some questions. Then you can go and we'll both pretend this never happened. Ok?"

Roderich's glare dropped to the hand around his wrist. "I'm assuming I don't really have a choice in the matter," he commented mildly.

The German albino shrugged. "You can always kill me."

'Tempting,' he thought. 'If only I could.'

Outwardly, he shook his head. "I'm not one for needless bloodshed," he said. "I suppose I'll go along with your idiotic game. But if I get the sense that this is anything short of harmless…" His scowl intensified. "I will personally take your life."

An almost childish smile curved the man's lips. "I would expect nothing else."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Oh wow, I wasn't expecting that much of a positive response so quickly ^.^ Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, followed, and/or reviewed; it makes me really happy.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

The Austrian surveyed the room around him with dismay. It was a complete mess of papers, scattered CD's, and textbooks lying open on ever available surface. The space, already small, seemed cramped with all of the clutter.

Gilbert had led him nearly across town, to a large apartment complex that seemed to be filled with all sorts of unsavory characters. In just the trip to the room, Roderich had witnessed three drunks, four couples making out against the walls, and one person pacing anxiously in front of a closed door.

Roderich almost felt relieved when Gilbert announced that they had reached his place. That relief faded the instant Roderich got a decent look around it.

"Why am I here?" he asked, allowing his gaze to fall on the stranger.

Almost lazily, he strode about the room, looking for something. "I'm Gilbert," he said instead. "Tell me what your name is, and we'll work from there."

Roderich watched him curiously. He would pick up one of the numerous notebooks; flip through its pages for a moment, before setting it down and trying a different one. "Roderich Edelstein," he replied.

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully. "I thought so," he murmured. "You look like a—oh, here it is—a person with a stupidly uptight name. It suits you and your clothes."

The brunette scowled briefly. So he was rude as well as irritating. Lovely combination, he decided.

"Take a seat, little lord Edelstein," he insisted as he pulled a pen from his pocket. Experimentally, he clicked it a few times before nodding.

His scowl intensified as he added condescending to the list of things he detested about this man. Still, he looked around for a moment before finding what seemed to be the only chair in the entire apartment. As gracefully as he could, he lowered himself into it, crossing his ankles out of habit.

The albino in turn sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. The 'right' notebook lay open in his lap as he twirled the pen between his fingers. "So how does being a Reaper work?" Gilbert asked, eagerness lighting his dark crimson irises.

Roderich looked down at him with dismay. How this _child_ got him to agree to this sort of nonsense was appalling. The fact that he looked so excited about it made it even worse.

"You need to be more specific," he evaded calmly. "That's a rather vague question." Though, it would not be nearly as vague as the answers Roderich planned to give.

"How did you become one?" he fired off quickly. He clicked the pen one more time, readying it on the page before him. "What was the process?"

Confusion furrowed Roderich's brow. "I've always been one," he replied.

He pursed his lips. "You're sure?"

Roderich nodded slowly, unsure of what he said. That was surely common knowledge; he assumed everyone was aware that an Assassin was always an Assassin.

"And your name is Roderich Edelstein?" he continued.

"I suppose so," he said. Roderich was trying to quickly come up with loopholes to these questions, but it seemed that Gilbert was making a point to ask in a way that made sure he would have to be straightforward.

Bewilderment settled over Gilbert's pale features as he made a few small notes. "That's odd," he murmured to himself. Almost nervously, he took his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it. "Ok, then how long have you existed as a Reaper?"

He paused for a moment, trying to count the years as they had passed him. "Fifteen years, perhaps," he answered. Roderich could count somewhere between fourteen and fifteen winters he had endured.

Gilbert nodded, confusion draining from his face as he continued to write. Apparently that answer was comforting, somehow. "How do you know who to, um, kill?"

"I don't kill; I collect souls," he corrected automatically. Roderich was a lot of things, but a killer… No. He was not a monster.

He shrugged, seemingly nonplussed by the Assassin's snappish response. "Tomato, tomahto."

Roderich masked a glare by adjusting his glasses. "I receive cases in batches of three or four," he replied bitterly. "Once I complete those, I receive another set. This cycle continues until my debt is repaid."

Once again, confusion clouded Gilbert's eyes. "Your debt," he repeated. "What do you mean 'your debt'?"

For a moment, Roderich stared blankly at him. For all Gilbert seemed to know, and seemed to see, did he have no clue about the fundamental basis of all of this? "You really don't know anything, do you?" he asked with a sigh. Roderich had gotten himself worked up over nothing but a crazy fool who could see things. How pitiable.

"Hey, I know a hell of a lot," Gilbert snapped with surprising vehemence.

Roderich arched a brow. That certainly hit a nerve. He would have to remember that if this questioning were to continue for much longer. A good part of him was pleased about this turn of events. "Yet you don't even know the basics," he said, continuing to prod that little nerve.

Gilbert glowered at him, his hands beginning to tremble. "Just answer my question," he demanded.

Roderich scoffed. "My debt of human souls. Once they are collected, I receive my reward."

He eyed the brunette skeptically. "And your reward is?"

A knowing smirk turned Roderich's lips. "I will become human."

At that, Gilbert dropped the pen entirely, his skin turning a sickened shade of almost green. "You… You'll what?" he asked incredulously.

Before Roderich could repeat himself, Gilbert was scrambling to his feet, the notebook unceremoniously falling to the floor. Almost manically he began the process of looking through his notebooks and loose stacks of paper. All the while, he was muttering disjointed phrases of panicked German.

Roderich watched him with a mixture of worry and contempt. Sheets of paper were fluttering about like snowflakes, as notebooks hit the ground with a faint thud. The languid way in which he had walked earlier had completely faded, as he quickly moved about the small space seemingly at random.

Roderich's eyes widened slightly. It was like watching a whirlwind, and he started to worry that the mania would eventually turn its attention to the Austrian.

Finally, he gave up. For a while, he just stood there, shoulders slumped with his head hanging in defeat. A sighed curse passed his lips before he slowly wandered his way back to Roderich, carefully avoiding the new disaster of paper on the floor.

"You can't be serious," he said, still standing. Now, he seemed to be looking down at Roderich with a sort of beaten hopelessness adorning his features. "That defies every law of nature there is; you can't…"

Roderich glared up at him, pushing himself up to stand right in front of the albino. How dare he? How dare he presume to tell Roderich what wasn't possible? This man hadn't lived the life of a Reaper. "Your laws of nature don't apply to those like me," he retorted. "I've seen it happen; do not presume to tell me what can and cannot be."

Quickly, he began to make his way across the room, not caring that he was walking over Gilbert's papers.

"Don't leave," Gilbert said, almost desperately. "I haven't finished asking my questions."

Roderich jerked his chin up, turning to look at the German. "And they will continue to be unanswered." He continued across the floor, thinking that if he could just get past the door, he would be free of this insane albino.

"If you walk out that door, I will tell everyone about the Angels of Death," Gilbert threatened as soon as Roderich's hand touched the doorknob.

He froze instantly. If anyone were to know… It would be his head on the chopping block. It didn't matter if they believed Gilbert or not; the mere fact that people had been told was enough to damn the Austrian.

"If you do that, I will personally take you to Death," he replied, a faux mask of calm covering his voice. "Knowledge of Death's Assassins is an instant death sentence; I'll personally see you to Hell's gate."

It was a bluff. Roderich knew that. He couldn't force Gilbert to go anywhere, and he feared that if he left, the albino would start to talk. That couldn't happen. Not after everything Roderich had done.

Still, he heard Gilbert inhale sharply. A brief pause followed where neither spoke, or even dared to move. Roderich wondered who would be the first to call the other's bluff.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Gilbert finally relented. "Don't turn me in to whoever's in charge of this, ok? I won't… I won't tell anyone."

Roderich breathed a sigh of relief. "Very well," he replied as he turned the doorknob. "As interesting as this has been, Gilbert, I sincerely hope I never see you again."

As soon as he pushed open the door, Gilbert answered. "I'll come back," the albino replied stubbornly. "I'm not letting go of you so easily."

Roderich tossed a final, condescending smile over his shoulder. "I can assure you that you won't have another choice in the matter."

To his surprise, Gilbert didn't try to stop him this time. As Roderich walked out of the apartment, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't realized how tense he had been the entire time he was in there. Something about Gilbert made it incredibly difficult to keep his composure.

Slowly, he made his way down through the building, not entirely sure of how to get out. The carpeted floor all seemed to blend together into a mess of hallways and stairs. He tried to work of a simple grid system, but apparently this entire building was messed up. The numbers would go up, then down with no coherency.

Once he managed to get out, Roderich still didn't even know where he was. He sighed again.

Vaguely, Roderich remembered when being lost would make him panic, and render him completely incapable. Now… It had simply turned into a fact of his life.

Besides, he realized that there wasn't really anywhere in particular for him to be. There was no point in worrying about being lost when one didn't have a place to find. It was nonsense.

After quickly scanning the area, he realized he was near a school. Judging by the size, it seemed to be a university of sorts. That made sense, he supposed. He remembered the large collection of textbooks on every available surface of Gilbert's apartment.

With a quick scowl, he adjusted the collar of his coat before striding off in the direction he thought he came from. The last thing he wanted was to be thinking about the poorly dressed German.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or started following ^.^

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

It had been a little over a week since Roderich had walked out of Gilbert's apartment. That single conversation had shocked the albino into a frenzy of research that left him nearly failing two of his classes. Needless to say, neither his Chemistry, nor his Sociology professors were too keen on this matter.

All the internet searching in the world, however, turned up nothing on making a deal with Death himself with the aim of gaining back humanity. Several trips to the campus library had also turned up nothing, with the exception of a fantasy novel that was complete crap. All in all, though he believed the Reaper, there was no other evidence to back up his claims.

In the end, all he actually accomplished was the pawning off of several items in exchange for a second-hand violin he wasn't actually sure was any good, and reading far more folktales than he thought possible.

He hoped that he could use the violin to persuade Roderich to give him more information. However, that only worked if he could find the damn Reaper again.

The next several days were spent scouring the streets, hoping to run across the deceased musician. However, Saturday rolled around, and there had been no sign of the man anywhere. The man had turned into a ghost once again.

Unsure of what to do next, and unwilling to study for his upcoming finals, he made a second trip to see Francis. His backpack was full of more folklore and the newly acquired violin in hand.

"Gilbert, you do realize you look like a moron when you carry that thing around, right?" Francis teased as he finished up with a client.

The Prussian scowled, but hid the violin case behind himself slightly. "Francis, just shut up."

Francis chuckled softly, holding his hands up in surrender. "You know I tease you out of love," he assured Gil. "Though it is odd to see you again so soon." He gave a final look over the drawing before him, and nodded to himself. "You look much more beautiful in person, of course, but I think you'll find this to your liking."

It was true that the girl was somewhat pretty, but beautiful? That was pushing it. Her red hair was a bit too fine, and her eyes were a little close-set.

Gilbert tried not to roll his eyes as the young lady cooed over the drawing, and praised the artist for his good work. He didn't miss the wink and large tip that passed between the two of them. Francis was truly a charmer, he thought with amusement. Likely that's how he survived as a street artist for all these years.

Though, he had to admit that Francis had talent. Gilbert had suggested multiple times that he go back to school, and become an illustrator. However, each time Francis turned him down, insisting that he enjoyed his simple life.

"So what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Francis asked, motioning to the recently vacated seat.

He grimaced; Gilbert hated when Francis tried to sketch him. "I didn't feel like reading about ionic bonds today."

A small smirk curved Francis' lips. "And you brought a violin with you." The blond nodded as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

Though, Gilbert supposed when it came to him, there wasn't much he could do that would shock the Frenchman. After eleven years, Francis had pretty much seen it all. "It's not for me," he defended, as if that made it any better.

"I assumed not; you never learned how to play one. You took flute back in high school, correct?"

Gilbert scowled at him. "Look, I was wondering if you'd seen any more deceased people. I'm trying to find one."

Hearing that, Francis scrutinized the violin a little more closely. "It's about him again, isn't it," he finally sighed. "That Roderich person you were obsessed with. Just because some people come back, doesn't mean they all do."

The albino blushed scarlet. "Of course not," he defended. "He, uh…" Quickly, he tried to think up another Reaper he had seen as of late. "_She's_ a brunette, light green eyes, and a bit intimidating to look at. Didn't catch her name."

Francis rolled his eyes. "You're as poor a liar as ever, Gilbert. However, I can safely say that I have only seen one dead person as of late, and it isn't your pretty pianist, or brunette woman."

At that, Gilbert took a closer look at the artist. He was almost slouching a little, and he wasn't insisting on drawing the German like he usually did. His bright blue eyes were ringed with faint dark circles. "Everything ok, Franny?" he asked. "You look a little… Not like you. You look really pallid, or something."

Francis' shoulders tensed, and Gilbert knew something was wrong. The artist was never one to look like he had any problems. If he appeared to be stressed… Something major must have happened.

"It's just a little matter between my dead friend and myself," he muttered. He brushed his hair back from his face, smudging a bit of graphite across his cheek. "Nothing to worry about." Again, he gestured towards the wooden chair. "Sit, Gil. I have a bit of time before my next appointment. You know how I love the angles of your face."

Gilbert shook his head, adjusting the strap on his backpack. "Maybe another time," he said. "I have a dead kid to track down."

Francis sighed, but nodded. "Come visit me another time," he insisted. "I miss seeing you every day."

He nodded, but didn't outright say 'yes' as he walked out of Francis' little alleyway. A stressed out Francis wasn't something Gilbert desired to be around. Nor was it something Francis would want anyone to be around, for that matter.

~X~

It was another week before Gilbert finally managed to run across Roderich. Every day for that week, he had carried around that old violin with the hopes of seeing the brunette.

At first, it seemed like he didn't notice Gilbert's approach. His gaze was intent on a young family walking down the street. A mother, father, and two daughters strolled by, oblivious to the Reaper standing so close.

Before saying anything, Gilbert secured a grasp around the Austrian's wrist, to make sure he didn't run.

Roderich's eyes widened as they flashed from the family to Gilbert. As soon as he saw who it was, the Reaper's gaze narrowed. "Let go of me," he demanded.

Gilbert shrugged. "Only if you agree to talk to me," he countered. Though he didn't like the idea of forcing Roderich to stay, he highly doubted that the pianist would stay otherwise.

A grimace turned his lips, but he nodded once.

He sighed shakily as he released Roderich's wrist. "Ok," he murmured to himself. "I, er… I found this, and thought you might want it." He held out the violin, grimacing at the worn case. "I mean, I don't really have a use for it, so…"

Roderich eyed it skeptically, adjusting the cuffs of his long, dark jacket. "And you think I have a use for such a thing?" Contempt weighted his tone as he appraised the case.

Gil's shoulders hunched a bit as he attempted to keep a flush from his cheeks. "You look like the type who plays," he improvised.

He still had his doubts that this was the Roderich Edelstein, and he had more doubts if the Angel of Death was even aware of anything of the sort, but he was still going to try to persuade him.

Dismay curled Roderich's lips. "You have a lot to say about how I supposedly look like a specific type of person," he noted. "Still, I have no use for a violin."

Gilbert pressed his lips together as he tried to think of another angle. "You could at least make an attempt to play it?" He was a little bothered by the way his statement had turned into a question. It wasn't like him to be so timid.

Roderich sighed, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his thin nose. "There's no point. I don't know how to play."

"You'd figure it out really quick," he promised. "For you, it wouldn't be difficult… Or, I don't think so," he tacked on. Nervously, he fidgeted with the handle. Gilbert was walking a thin line of pretending that he was unaware of Roderich Edelstein's capabilities, while insisting that the Reaper Edelstein attempt to match them.

It was a tricky balance.

The Austrian sighed, and adjusted his collar. "Gilbert, as you know of my current state, I'm sure you would be aware that I can't carry anything that I don't need. And a violin is something I don't need."

"Just try," Gilbert murmured, reaching out to take Roderich's hand. "Just one time." Slowly, he pressed the case into Roderich's palm.

For a moment, Gil was sure that he would drop the case entirely. Yet, the instant the instrument came within an inch of falling, Roderich's hand automatically clasped around it.

Violet eyes stared at the violin case, as if he couldn't believe he had just grabbed it. "Why?" he asked, not lifting his gaze to meet Gil's.

He shrugged, trying not to fidget with the hem of his jacket. "There's no room at my place for a violin."

"So you give it to me, of all people?" Roderich's eyes flashed up quickly, shooting him a quizzical glance. "To be blunt, you don't know anything about me that would endear me to you. So why give me such a thing?"

Gilbert bit down on his lower lip. What could he say to that? 'Well, you look exactly like this musician I had the biggest crush on when I was a kid, so I thought you would enjoy a violin like the one he used to play'? Or what about: 'I've spent the last two weeks looking for you so I could talk to you again. I bought this for you in the hopes you would actually give me the time of day'?

Both of those sounded beyond desperate. So he settled for his go-to response. "Because I felt like it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** I'm so sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I'm having a bit of trouble finding inspiration for this fic at the moment.

Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and/or reviewed Cheating Death

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

Roderich had no idea why, but he ended up holding on to the violin. 'Because I felt like it'… That was such a complete lie it wasn't even funny.

But, what he told Gilbert was right. His lifestyle wasn't conducive to anything extra that he had to carry about. The instrument was really nothing more than another burden.

Yet… Knowing this, why had he even bothered accepting it? Why hadn't he just dropped it when Gilbert handed it to him? That was his original intention. But, the second he felt the case slipping from his hands, the first thing that ran through his head was 'Not the violin'.

It was confusing, to say the least. A buried instinct that Roderich neither understood, nor could control.

He hated it.

After holding on to it for three days, Roderich finally had enough. He had resisted the urge to open the case, to look at it, to try and play, though… He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep abstaining.

Reluctantly, he returned to Death's building. It was the closest thing to a home any of them had, much as they would all like to deny it.

"Not again," Vash sighed the instant the Austrian came into view. "I already told you that I'm not reassigning your work anymore."

He flashed an irate glare at the secretary. "I just need to keep something here," Roderich replied. "I'm perfectly all right with completing the work assigned to me."

The Swiss man sighed, massaging his temple. "What are you planning on storing here?"

Delicately, Roderich placed the violin case on Vash's desk, being inexplicably careful with the gifted instrument. "Only for a little while," he assured the blond. "I doubt that you could properly care for it for an extended period of time."

Now Vash was glaring back. "And you can?" he retorted. "You're an Assassin, not a musician."

That comment felt like an knife through the Austrian's chest. Vash was right; he had no idea how to maintain an instrument. He didn't even know how to play. But, somehow, he got this little nagging voice in the back of his head that constantly said otherwise.

Vash rolled his emerald eyes, lifting the violin case over to his side of the desk. "I'll hold on to it," he said. "But only because I pity you. Don't think it's for any other reason." Still, he looked at the case distrustfully. "How did you come across this anyways?"

A brief grimace crossed Roderich's lips as he quickly came up with a half-true reply. "A very irritating college student. He seems to be under the impression that I'm some sort of musician. He wouldn't let me leave until he was sure I had accepted the thing."

Now Roderich fell under Vash's scrutiny. For a moment, neither of them spoke as they mentally appraised the other.

"You're having doubts," Vash surmised. "Something about this isn't sitting right with you."

Roderich shrugged lightly. "I was simply considering the possibility that the child may have been right," he dismissed. "He seemed very adamant."

"We aren't human." Scorn dripped from Vash's tone. "If you're even thinking that there's a chance that you were alive, then I think your mind finally left to be with your heart."

He managed to keep a blank face, though the comment was yet another stab. "It was merely an errant thought," Roderich replied. "I know perfectly well that this is all I ever was."

Vash eyed him appraisingly, likely deciding if it was true, or just another one of the Assassin's lies. "You should leave then," he finally said. "I'm getting sick of looking at your face, and you don't have any business here."

Internally, Roderich sighed. Vash hadn't believed him. Curtly, he nodded once before turning on his heel to walk away.

"Edelstein…"

He paused, not looking back at the blond.

Vash sighed. "Don't do anything stupid. I've seen enough of your kind get dragged to hell. Much as I dislike you, I'd rather you not be added to their number."

Roderich's lips twitched slightly. "You don't have to worry about me doing anything idiotic," he replied as he walked towards the glass door. "I have no plans of being damned."

If he didn't know better, Roderich would have sworn that Vash had said: "That's what they all say."

In any case, he paid the Swiss man no mind. He had an albino to track down. There was some answers that he was sure Gilbert had, and Roderich wanted them.

~X~

It was surprisingly hard to find the German. Roderich spent the better part of a week wandering his campus in hopes of seeing him, but to no avail.

The fact that the Austrian was making sure not to be seen by the other students wasn't really helping, though. Fifteen years of living apart from humans made for some habits that couldn't be easily broken. Every time someone got too close, Roderich would automatically recoil away. So, as usual, he was confined to the shadows of the different buildings.

It was a pain, but he really didn't see another way.

Thursday afternoon proved to be his lucky day, as he managed to spy Gilbert walking between buildings. Hurriedly, Roderich fought to catch up to him without drawing any attention.

Considering how badly Gilbert startled when the brunette finally appeared in front of him, Roderich believed that his attempts were successful.

"We need to talk," he said, ignoring the fact that Gilbert was staring at him like he was a ghost.

For a moment, he just looked at Roderich, obviously in shock. "I have to be in Western Civ in ten minutes," he replied. "Can we talk later?"

Roderich sighed impatiently. "No."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, continuing his path. "Look, Roddy, I don't really have time for this. I'll be out of class in about two hours, so we can just do it then."

As the albino tried to walk past, Roderich found his hand clamping down on Gilbert's shoulder with more force than he thought he was capable of. "We need to talk," he repeated. "Now."

That got him to scowl as he shook off Roderich's grasp. "Ok, now you're getting a bit close to the line. I'm going to class, and if you try and stop me I will find a way to hurt you. Understand?"

Roderich felt his hand fall limply to his side. Something about that grimace told the Austrian that he wasn't kidding, and that he would hurt him. "Fine," he replied, managing to keep his voice steady. "But we are going to talk today. I don't care if you have any other obligations."

Gilbert shrugged. "Fine by me, Lord Edelstein," he replied mockingly. "I'll be here in two hours. We can talk then."

He automatically scowled at his condescending tone. Still, he nodded once before turning away to recede back into the shadows. There was no point in staying. Perhaps, he considered, Roderich would actually just leave all together. There was a chance that the answers weren't worth it after all.

There was no chance that he wanted to be around an arrogant, condescending moron who may or may not have a tendency towards violence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **Ok, I'm really sorry about how slow I am on updating this. I'm trying, but this story is a bit of a struggle for me. Don't think I'm giving up on it though!

Also, you may have noticed I changed the title of this… After a lot of thought, Second Chances is a more apt description of where this is going to be going. Sorry for any confusion

Thank you to everyone who read, favorited, started following, and/or reviewed. And thank you to everyone for your patience with me.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

No matter what Roderich tried to tell himself, there was no concrete reason for why he was still standing on the pathway two hours later when Gilbert's class ended. He had attempted to convince himself that it was only because he needed the information the albino may have, or that it was vital for Gilbert to reclaim the stupid violin.

Of course, at the end of the day Roderich was fully aware that both of those reasons weren't true. Though, what the truth was, even he wasn't exactly sure of.

Gilbert seemed just as surprised to see him standing there as Roderich was that he had stayed. "I thought you would have gone back to wherever it is people like you live," he said. Almost awkwardly, his gaze shifted about as he adjusted his backpack.

Roderich tried not to grimace. 'People like him' didn't live anywhere. If they wanted to, Death's building was always open, but other than that, they were mostly left out in the cold. "You owe me answers," he replied. "I intend to get them now."

The albino rolled his eyes. "You make a lot of demands," he observed. "What is it that you wanted to know?

He pursed his lips as he tried to decide how to phrase it exactly. If he were to be too blunt, it could be seen as vain. However, Roderich doubted the man's capacity to understand subtlety. "All your questions, and actions, lead me to believe that you know more than you're letting on."

For a moment, Gilbert just stared at him. "That's a statement," he eventually prodded.

Roderich sighed adjusting his glasses. "What aren't you telling me?" he finally asked, getting straight to the point.

Gilbert ran a hand through his silvery hair. "One, I'm pretty sure it isn't your concern, and two, I don't know anything about you that you haven't told me. Seriously, you waited two hours to ask that baseless question?"

The Austrian Reaper could feel the impassive mask fall as he leveled a sharp glare at the student. "It became my concern the moment you forced a violin into my hands," he retorted. "The second you started making all these comments about how I seem to be a certain type of person, it became my problem. So tell me what you know."

By the end of it, Roderich could clearly hear the acid in his own voice, but he couldn't quite figure out a way to temper it. He was spiraling. The control he firmly maintained for fifteen years was slipping away because of one German who was needlessly haunting his thoughts.

Gilbert's brow was furrowed, confusion evident in his very posture. He had hunched over slightly, leaning towards the Reaper. "I just told you that I don't know anything that you haven't told me," he repeated. "All my information's second-hand."

Roderich scowled at him. "You know something about me. What is it?"

"About you?" Gilbert repeated.

He nodded once. His lips were pulled tight to hold back all the trepidation, and annoyance.

Gilbert's lips twitched slightly as he sat down in the middle of the pavement. Quickly, he began to rifle through his backpack. "You're a pain in the ass," he muttered. "I tell you, and I tell you, but you don't listen to me…" A large stack of notebooks, folders, and textbooks accumulated next to him, growing alarmingly in size.

The brunette watched in amazement as the pile continued to grow. Well, appalled would be a better word. Yet, he kept his retorts to himself since it appeared that Gilbert was finally going to respond to his question.

"Here it is," Gilbert finally murmured. A victorious smirk curled his lips as he pulled a worn, emerald notebook from the seemingly bottomless black backpack of his.

Roderich bit back an impatient sigh as Gilbert slowly flipped through the pages, reading every single one. "I didn't realize the question was so complicated that you would need notes," he commented.

That earned him a sharp glare before Gilbert started reading off one of the pages, word for word. "Name, Roderich Edelstein. Early twenties, wielding a thin, double edged sword. Has been an Angel of Death for approximately fifteen years. First encounter: 22nd of March, 2002. Has a 'debt' to Death that, once paid, will result in the Reaper becoming human. Has no knowledge of how to play the violin."

At that, he snapped the notebook shut before meeting Roderich's gaze. "That's all I know," he insisted. "That's what you told me, and that's all I know."

For a moment, the Reaper just stared back at him. How this stranger knew so much, yet so little… It was completely baffling. Then he realized that the albino hadn't even touched on what he actually wanted to find out. "You know more," he insisted. "You know something that caused you to bring me a violin. Tell me what it is."

A playful smirk teased the corners of Gilbert's mouth. "That was pure speculation," he countered. "I only know what I told you." He packed his books back into that damned bag. "Everything else is just a guess. And I tend to not waste my time explaining hypotheses."

Roderich's gaze narrowed. "It's enough of a guess that you go out of your way to get a musical instrument, but not enough of one to explain," he rephrased.

Gilbert shrugged, pulling the backpack back onto his shoulder. "That's one way to look at it. Or you could say that I'm saving you trouble from when my theories change. It's just easier to keep you in the dark until I actually know."

He was about seven seconds away from grabbing Gilbert by the front of his jacket, and shaking him. The level of complete irritation that this man brought up was absurd. "And what exactly is it that you are theorizing about?" he asked, keeping the edge out of his voice by sheer willpower.

He smiled broadly, completely oblivious to Roderich's emotional state. "For you? That's a secret. It could contaminate my results, and all."

"I'm not a scientific experiment," Roderich retorted. "I'm an Assassin for Death. Now tell me what you're thinking about."

"You mean that your eyes would be beautiful if you took off the glasses?"

For once, Roderich didn't have a response. He had no sharp retort, or biting remark. As his comment sunk in, the Austrian could feel his cheeks warm slightly as he averted his gaze. "Are you ordinarily this stupid?" he asked, remembering how intellect seemed to be a nerve with the albino.

"I'm a doctoral candidate, not a fucking moron," Gilbert retorted.

As if that mattered. "Then stop acting like one, and tell me what theories led you to believe that I had use for a violin."

The German sighed heavily. "Not yet," he replied. "Not until I actually have concrete evidence that I could be right. If you really want to know, then you're going to have to answer a lot more of my questions. Maybe then we can get this whole mess figured out."

Roderich scoffed. "I wasn't aware there even was a mess."

At that, Gilbert grimaced. "That's part of the reason it's such a disaster," he replied. "You don't even see what the problem is."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** I am so, SO sorry about the lack of updates. I've been having such trouble getting my Gilbert and Roderich to cooperate, and make this story happen. Actually, the two of them have sort of gone underground for me. I might take a bit of a break from writing this, but for now, I'm going to keep trying to update as often as I'm able to. Again, I'm sorry.

Thank you to everyone who read, started following, favorited, and/or reviewed. And thank you for your patience.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya

~X~

Gilbert managed to convince Roderich to come back to his apartment. At first, the man had been resistant, but Gil was beginning to figure out which buttons would garner the response he desired.

He could tell that the brunette was curious. Hell, he waited two hours outside to ask him questions. If he could hint at what he was thinking just enough to keep the Austrian interested, there was a good chance that Gil could manage to come to his conclusion so much quicker.

It was almost fascinating to watch Roderich. And Gilbert needed to watch the Austrian very carefully if he was going to actually see anything.

It only took a small handful of encounters for him to realize that the Austrian was very much like Francis: hiding behind a shield of aloofness. From what he had heard, the musician Edelstein was very much like that as well. Slowly all the pieces were fitting together rather nicely, aside from the fact that the Reaper claimed that he had never been human.

"Will you stop staring?" Roderich asked, irritation tainting his musical voice.

Gilbert blinked, pulled back into reality. He hadn't realized that he actually was looking at him. "Why? Does it creep you out?" he challenged in return.

The two of them were, once again, seated in his cramped apartment. Gilbert was wandering about the small kitchenette, while Roderich remained stationary in that same chair he occupied last time. It was nearly nine at night, perhaps he could manage to get the Reaper to stay a night.

As a reply, Roderich adjusted his glasses. Gilbert had decided that it was a distraction technique. "Actually, yes. I find it very disturbing."

The Prussian grinned, but discreetly averted his eyes. His gaze fixed upon an old photograph hanging above the Reaper's left shoulder. "You're just weirded out because you're a shut in," he returned. "I'm pretty sure you're agoraphobic, actually."

"I'm _what_?"

Gilbert's eyes shifted back to the brunette. Genuine confusion twisted his expression, almost completely unhampered by the disinterested mask. "Agoraphobic," he repeated. "Y'know, scared of crowds? I saw the way you were avoiding everyone on campus…"

Roderich stared at him blankly, clearly not understanding. Which, considering that the albino just defined the somewhat advanced term, made little sense.

"What?" Gil asked, defensively shying away a bit. The scrutiny in that gaze was more than a bit unnerving.

Slowly, the brunette shook his head. "How can you throw words like agoraphobic about so casually when you speak like a teenager?"

Automatically, Gilbert shrugged, trying to brush it off. At the same time, he felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment as he turned towards the fridge. "It's a normal word to use," he returned. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with the way I talk."

Actually, Gilbert knew it was strange. His English was shaped by reading too many books, and desperately fighting to fit in with the kids his age. Words like 'superfluous' would be spoken right after ones like 'asshat', and he was constantly switching between his informal speaking patterns, and sounding exactly like a high level textbook.

A slight smirk turned the Austrian's lips. "Of course not," he replied mockingly.

Gil grimaced. He hated when Roderich did that. Every time he found something that made the albino uncomfortable, he would get that victorious smirk. "When I was a kid, I read a lot of psychology books. The terminology stuck. That's it. Happy?"

Roderich shrugged lightly, brushing imaginary lint from his coat. "It's not like I care," he replied coolly.

Gilbert didn't respond for a moment. It didn't matter if he meant it or not, those words were always the absolute cruelest to hear. "Of course not," he muttered. It would be idiotic of him to even consider that the Reaper actually cared about anything, especially about him. "Why bother asking then?"

His lips twitched, obviously suppressing some expression. Dismay? Amusement Gilbert couldn't tell. "I'm simply wondering if you're actually stupid or not."

Gil's shoulders tensed. Yes, half the people thought he was a moron at first. Hell, there was a few people who still thought he was after a few weeks. "Ask away, then," he challenged quietly.

"What?" Roderich asked, startled. "Ask what?"

The albino turned a sharp glare to the other. Slowly, he strode across the small apartment to stand directly in front of the other. "You think I'm stupid," he accused. "Ask me anything you want; I'll prove you wrong." He had spent the last eight years working towards a doctorate. There was no way he'd allow his childhood hero to think of him as anything short of genius. It didn't matter if he had no proof that this was the musician. If there was any chance that he was, Gilbert would not allow him to consider the albino stupid.

Roderich's violet eyes narrowed slightly, wordlessly accepting the challenge. "How many octaves are on a grand piano?" he fired off.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Really, was it impossible to think of anything more difficult? "Seven," he replied. "And there's no difference between the number of octaves on a grand piano versus any other sort. It's all the same."

A slight smile teased Roderich's lips. "Tell me what a requiem is."

Slowly, Gilbert was becoming more and more convinced that this Reaper was the musician. The questions he chose to ask were just giving him more circumstantial proof. A requiem… The same type of piece that the pianist composed. "A requiem is a musical piece that is written to honor and individual who has died. A popular example would be Mozart's Requiem. It's generally performed for a Catholic mass for the deceased."

The Austrian's brow furrowed slightly. "You're starting to sound like a textbook," he stated.

"Do you have a problem with the way I speak?" Gilbert asked testily. "Cuz that seems to be the only thing about me you seem to notice."

Once again, Roderich fidgeted with his glasses. "It's hard to ignore," he said blandly.

"So is the thing with the specs, but you don't hear me commenting every time you adjust them," Gil fired back.

A sharp glare almost pierced through the albino as the Reaper's fists clenched. Roderich took a deep breath, and brought that impervious wall back up. "I suppose that answers my question."

Gilbert quirked a brow, but didn't say anything. Unlike the brunette, he didn't have an emotionless mask to hide behind. Roderich was able to read every hint of irritation he felt pulsing through his veins.

A faint smile touched his lips as those dark eyes froze entirely. "All the knowledge in the world can't fix your stupidity."

In that instant, Gilbert wanted to grab Roderich by the front of his jacket, and scream in his face. He wanted to hit him so hard that Roderich would be rendered unconscious. Everything stopped in that moment of complete and utter hatred.

If he was anyone other than Gilbert Beilschmidt, this man would be beaten within an inch of his life. But Gil couldn't. Not when he was using Roderich to try and prove the theory he had been contemplating since high school. The potential to prove himself conclusively right was worth more than the instantaneous pleasure of making that smug, beautiful face just as messed up as the person it belonged to.

Because if nothing else, Gil can safely add something else to the list of things he knew about Roderich. He was an emotionless bastard who loved to hurt others.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** I am so, so sorry for the delay. Life has been more than a little hectic since I began working again. I'll try much harder to get updates out in a timely manner, but I suppose that I can't make any promises. Also, I apologize for the short chapter this time.

Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and/or started following. You are what makes this process worthwhile to me.

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya.

~X~

Roderich was pretty sure he could remember the first time that he went to see Vash in the office. Granted, the entire thing was very hazy, and not even remotely exciting, but he was pretty sure that the process hadn't irritated him at the beginning.

From what he could recall, the brunette had entered the clean, pristine room with the slightest bit of trepidation, and more determination than any other Assassin of his cycle.

Yet, fifteen years had changed that. Now, as he walked through the glass doors Roderich was just as cold as the water that currently clung to his skin. He could care less about getting out of here. It was all the same to Roderich if he just stayed here forever.

The double suicide had been more difficult than he anticipated, since one of the boys had survived five minutes longer than the other. Roderich was forced to track the body as it bobbed about through the murky river in the middle of the night.

Before he could stab the young man, however, he had trained his dark eyes directly on his Assassin. The words that shaped his mouth were clearly, "Oh god."

Still, the absolute horror that lit his gaze didn't deter the Austrian from carrying out his duties. The boy was slain just like his friend, and as easily as the scores that had fallen before him.

With the exception of one woman. There was one death that still haunted him after nine years. It was a car accident in a small suburb in the middle of the night. That was the night when he had first seen the albino who currently plagued him.

Abruptly, Roderich shook his head to deter those unbidden thoughts. There was no need to remember the one time he completely lost control of himself. Especially given the present company.

As soon as Vash lifted his eyes to meet the Assassin's, the Swiss man scowled. "If you refute one of these, I'm going to bash your head against the desk," he warned.

Roderich sighed. Same old, same old. They had always been like this, ever since they met. After all this time, it was getting a bit old. Still, he continued to play his part as he always had. "You wouldn't. Violence isn't allowed between our kind, Zwingli. Just give me my assignments."

The blond huffed, crossing his arms. "I'll be so happy when you're finally out of here," he said with a sharp glare. He slid three manila folders across the desk, not caring when they spilled to the floor at Roderich's feet.

He didn't even deign to glance at them. Instead, he kept that cold stare focused right on those grass-green eyes. "I believe I've heard you accuse about thirty people of losing their minds," he murmured. "I wonder how long ago you lost your own."

With that, Roderich knelt down to retrieve the pages before almost waltzing out of the building. The anger and annoyance from the shorter man was audible, crackling through the air. Still, the brunette ignored it, jerking his chin up as he reentered the streets of the living.

Perhaps he would return later to contest one of the files simply to spite the Secretary. It would serve the other right.

More often than not, Roderich could actually stand Vash's presence. He merely kept up the pretense that he despised the other man for the simple reason that it was so easy to press his buttons.

In that way, he reflected, Vash was similar to Gilbert. When one knows exactly where to press, it's easy to get the response you want. Simply by dismissing his intelligence, Roderich can get the albino to rattle off facts and figures forever. And at the end of the day, Roderich could still claim that the other was an idiot by his immaturity.

It was a beautiful, dangerous thing, with Gilbert. While Vash couldn't actually do anything to harm the Austrian, Gilbert could. Vash could make all the threats that he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was powerless. Vash was weak compared to Roderich, and he loved it.

Not Gilbert though. The German could easily expose him; end him; torment him. There was no end to the things that Gilbert could do to Roderich. Yet, it seemed like he would never realize that.

Gilbert would always cave to the slightest bit of well-placed opposition. The tiniest bit of leverage got the powerful man to bend to Roderich's will, and that was intoxicating.

Well, it was when Gilbert would behave. The moment when he truly snapped, Roderich realized that he had been playing with fire the entire time, and that he had barely avoided being burned alive. Roderich found the line that one did not cross with him.

The worst part of the whole ordeal was that he found that he couldn't step away. Roderich was trapped, enraptured even, by the fury that lay beneath the shell of the fragile looking albino.

He didn't know why, but it reminded him of something. It was like the crescendo that brought in the storm.

Once again, Roderich found himself outside the empty concert hall; all three files were securely tucked beneath the folds of his jacket. Finally, he pulled them out to scan through them.

His thin brows raised with disbelief as he paged through them all. All three were car crashes.

Vash was definitely going to be receiving an earful about this. Roderich had made it perfectly clear to the Swiss that he did not like those jobs. And yet, here were three more.

He sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple. If this didn't work out, it was going to be a difficult three months for him.

"I figured I'd find you here," Gilbert said, instantly garnering his attention.

Roderich glanced over to him as he tucked the files beneath his coat. He sighed as he realized the agitated set of the albino's grimace. "Is there a reason you were looking for me?"

He shrugged, burying his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. "Not really. I just wanted to see you before finals." That scowl tried to force itself into a half-smile, but failed completely.

Roderich turned away, still not ready to accept that he enjoyed the possibility that the other could actually seek his presence. "I'm afraid that I lack the patience to deal with your mood swings today," he said. "It's been a busy day, and I would prefer to spend time in solitude."

"Did you drown someone today?" Gilbert asked, abruptly changing the subject. He reached out to touch the Austrian's shoulder. There was nothing forceful in the gesture; it almost felt like another question.

Roderich pressed his lips together in a hard line, taking a step away. "I'm not a murderer," he replied. "I simply collected the boy's soul, and he drowned on his own."

"Either way, you're soaked," Gilbert said. "Look, I know you're probably pissed off at me, but… Do you want to come by my place to dry off?"

That was a lovely offer, he realized. It wasn't even May; the nights were cold still. The German was offering a chance to step off the uncomfortable streets, and instead be in his hovel of an apartment. It was the opportunity to get out of these damp clothes.

Yet, it was likely a trap. Roderich wasn't sure what it was, but he was almost positive that Gilbert was using him for something. Roderich refused to be the pawn in someone else's game when he was the king of his own.

"No. I would like to spend time alone," he repeated.

Gilbert sighed. "Whatever then. Maybe I'll see you in a few weeks then. If not… Have a nice whatever it is you're living."

Roderich spun around, glaring at the retreating form of the albino. "And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?" Venom laced his words, turning them into poisoned arrows.

"I mean that what you're doing isn't living, Roddy," Gilbert called, still walking away. "It's just a charade."

He gritted his teeth, losing all pretenses of a civil mask. That was too far. Much as he wanted to yell at the man, curse his existence and tell him that he was wrong, Roderich couldn't find the exact words. All the ammunition he had to bring Gilbert down would be ineffective in this conversation. Roderich had nothing.

Instead, he simply glowered at Gilbert as he left. Even after he was out of sight, Roderich continued to scowl at the place where he had stood.


End file.
